Your Homecoming Will Be My Homecoming
by HeartoftheNighte
Summary: She doesn't realize she's come home until she's standing in front of the familiar two story house, nestled in amongst a hundred others like it, but this one was hers. Others have the same paint scheme and plenty have better yards, but this is the place where she was almost born. Beginning of my AU 'verse "There Are Many Like It, But This One Is Mine" feat. my OFC Cadie


**A/N:** This is the story I'm working on that's set in the same 'verse as "An Inch Of Nothing For Your Soul" and "Imprints". This is a standalone piece and will not have any chapters. Whenever I get around to adding more, it will be another separate story. I'm calling the 'verse "There Are Many Like It, But This One Is Mine". Not sure why, the title just stuck.

Anyway, if you've read the other two, this is the introduction of my OFC Cadie. Goes AU after season 3. This makes brief passing mention of it and what happened to Peter.

Title taken from another E.E. Cummings poem, just because.

Enjoy!

* * *

She doesn't realize she's come home until she's standing in front of the familiar two story house, nestled in amongst a hundred others like it, but this one was hers. Others have the same paint scheme and plenty have better yards, but this is the place where she was almost born. Where her mom's water broke and her head almost crowned before dad got them to the hospital. Its where they came back just hours later with her wrapped tight in her parents love. Its simple and unimpressive, but within the walls in need of paint is a hundred memories made in six short years. They have been her anchor, the only light in a world of darkness. They have kept her sane and they have kept her human for eighteen years. Such a long time to hold when such a brief amount was given to sustain.

Sometimes she wonders if her parents had known they wouldn't always have her. That their first, their daughter, would be ripped away from them at such a young age and had piled her with all the love she'd need. Said the things she needed to hear and hugged her tight an extra amount of times to make up for when they couldn't. Its illogical, impossible really, for those thoughts to be true. The reality is, is they had been warm and loving naturally. That they had thought they had had all the time in the world to spend with her. And that's more comforting than anything else because it makes her think again if they had known how much more they would have given. Everything if what she already had was to judge. They would have given everything.

Its why she should not be here, cannot fathom why she is. Its like there is a hook in her chest and this place has a hold of the line and reeled her in. She'd run from Colorado full of fear. Terror licking her escape and had not thought of where to go. Only to evade, hide, find someplace safe. It had brought her here. Brought her home. But it wasn't hers anymore. _Never would be._

She tries to pretend that they moved. Imagines the moving truck in the driveway and her parents loading boxes with her baby brother nestled in a stroller under their watchful eye. Creates the feeling of sadness as they pack up their life and move away. Move on without the little girl they had adored. But its a lie because that's her dad's cruiser next to a beat up old jeep that she doesn't remember. Her mom's station wagon is gone, but that's the scent of her lasagna cooking in the kitchen. There's a whiff of the Barbasol shaving cream her dad had always used and his Old Spice deodorant. The warm worn in leather of his winter jacket for the cool Northern Californian winters. There's a faint scent of Chloe, her mom's favorite perfume and strong burn of the Old English wood polish she'd painstakingly rubbed into the floor and furniture. Sweat and boy-smell come from the upstairs window left open telling her that her baby brother has grown up. Life has continued on without her like she had hoped it would, but she's still left wrecked in the waking nightmare that they never knew about.

Her eyes close against the sight of that house (_home_) and the tears fall like they haven't since she was first ripped away. Since she was told she was a monster and could never, ever go back. That they'd never take her as she is. She's lived every day since then denying the nature she's been told is now hers, that she could be good and not hurt people. But the truth is, if she stays they'll die. Andrew wont' let them live if he knows she's been here and there's enough left in her, enough of what her parents gave her to not linger. To not invite that here. This last glimpse, this slip up is all she can let herself have.

She means to turn and walk away. To slip into the shadows once more and fade from this place like the ghost they must think she is. To become but an echo of what might have been but never will be. But then they step out and she's frozen in the spot as terror and complicated joy pulse through her. Dad and what must be Genim, taller than her now. All limbs and goofy grin as dad claps him on the shoulder before climbing into the cruiser and driving off. The teenager, her baby _brother,_ is not long in following and she aches to think of him as old enough to drive. Hopping into the jeep and tearing off in the opposite direction, music playing too loud and engine revving more than necessary. They leave behind a house with all the lights turned off and no scent or sound of anyone within.

Cadie takes strangled breaths against the burning in her lungs as she wonders at the absence of her mom. Wonders if perhaps she's already out and the station wagon is parked in some one else's driveway. If she works at the library again like she used to before Genim came into their lives. Pushes away the dread that maybe the reason why her mom's scent is faded is because she's not there anymore.

The tears have left dried salt tracks on her skin, making her face stiff and still she stands, watching the Stilinski home. But its clear that no one is coming back, that for now, its empty. All that's left is a lingering grief that she can't think about if she wants to move on. She doesn't, but its the only choice left to her. Everything was taken away all those years ago on the side of a snowy mountain road. Doubts and questions linger though, keeping her where she is instead of moving on like she should. If _(when)_ she leaves, she knows she's never coming back. She won't make the same mistake again, take the same stupid chances. This is it. Her last glimpse of home. She wants more memories than what she has even if they're not hers.

The back door is unlocked and when thought became action she doesn't know. Doesn't remember slipping around the house and vaulting the high wooden privacy fence. All she knows is the cool knob is in her hand and the familiar creak as the door swings in and her nose is assaulted with all the scents that only an animal like her could pick up. The dust of cleaning long neglected, the must of rooms unused. The old law books from her grandpa on her dad's side in the office. The lasagna dinner and the cheeses and sauce used within. The lingering scent of onion and tomato and pepper from the salad. Exercise gear and old sneakers left in the hall to the front door. Old Chinese take out from the living room. Mens body wash wafting from upstairs and the thick odor of laundry detergent on the door to her left. But covering them all were _Home_ and _Dad_ and _Genim_ and ever so faintly, _Mom._ They're emotions layered into the house, the wood of the floor, the carpet in the living room, the paint on the walls. They're each unique, separate entities of love and comfort, parceled together to make a whole. The wolf within murmurs _Pack_, a word that means _Family_, but has never been for her. Its been a source of fear and humiliation, but still it lingers within her mind. Like this is proof of what its supposed to be, but never has like a dream unfulfilled and instead made nightmare.

She closes her eyes against it all, still standing on the threshold, the door in her hand. There's still a chance to walk away from all this, to not be reminded of all she's lost and how its all left her behind. And in another sense, she's already taken the steps down a road that there's no way to turn around on. She made her choice when she didn't walk away before she saw them leave the house. There's only one way to end this now.

The door snicks quietly closed behind her and she has the belated thought that she should remember to lock it when she leaves. Its ridiculous, but its there. Her hand reaches out and traces the walls as she walks slowly forward, leaving a scent trail should anyone come looking. Its dangerous, but if Andrew has followed and found her in California then there will be no hiding where she has run anyway and she wants to leave even this small piece of herself. No one but her will ever know that the lost child ever came back. All there will be as evidence is this phantom trail.

She doesn't turn on lights as she finds her way through the house, aching at how nothing has changed. She can see everything with the small light from the streetlamps pooling through the curtains on the windows. Can see that the paint is the same color as her fuzzy memories and the furniture is as she left it. There's no barbies scattered across the couch in the living room and the dollhouse no longer takes pride and center before the TV. There's case files strewn across the dining room table and a bottle of bourbon beside them, half empty. Her dad's scent lingers strongest there.

It isn't easy to turn away from that room and the kitchen; two places where some of the best memories were made. But it hurts to see the images in her mind layered over the empty space, hear the sound of their voices echoing in the emptiness.

She pulls away from her dad's unused office, unwilling to see what he's kept of grandpa there. It holds the last memory she has of dad and grandpa together and it tears at her already shredded heart.

The steps leading up to the bedrooms tell the story of the lives lived within the house. Pictures stretch the length, chronicling the shining moments of a culmination of lives well lived and loved. They falter at the beginning, the freshest a scattering of the teenage boy she doesn't recognize, but knows all the same and her dad receiving his sheriff's badge. Her mom isn't in any at the bottom of the stairs.

Halfway up the frames become familiar, the grainy images within clear in her mind. Her holding Genim at a family barbeque, dad failing at being serious with his arm slung around grandpa and a friend from work. Mom cooking in the kitchen, looking exasperated at the camera. Her first school picture. Steps higher and her baby picture. Another and its her parents honeymoon and higher, a series of wedding photos and family members she barely remembers. Near the top, fuzzy washed out photos of her mom and dad in school and in front of the diner they fell in love in. They start the tears anew, flowing thick and unhindered. She wipes at them, but can't shake the thought of how she's walked through lives she never knew and back in time to ones she did.

Unfamiliar scents assail her nose as she walks past the first door. Its cracked and she can see dark and blue walls and _Boy_ rolls out from within, thick and pungent. She moves on because she won't find anything she knows if she looks within. She doesn't know Genim anymore, only the faded memories of the baby he'd been and isn't anymore.

The next door is closed and she can smell the disuse within. It clutches tight around her heart and squeezes, makes her hand tremble as it reaches for the knob. The cold is shocking and she twists and pushes in the rush to pull away.

Its black within. The curtains are drawn tight and no light glows within anymore and even her heightened eyes cannot penetrate the gloom. The light is blinding when she hits the switch by the door. But when her eyes clear her breath stops. Everything is the same.

The walls are still painted baby pink and purple. Homemade wooden letters declaring _Princess Cadie_ are still tacked up on one and Sleeping Beauty decorates her bed. The dollhouse is in one corner with the barbies and My Little Ponies neatly placed around it. Her drawing book is open on the table with an obscene amount of crayons and markers around it. Posters of kittens and butterflies decorate the walls and a ragged teddy bear sits atop her pillows. Everything is as she left it almost twenty years ago, even the frame of her parents on the bedside table, there to always watch out for her. The scent of her mom lingers strongest here, but it is faint, faded. A memory and no longer a presence.

Her sob is audible, catches up and knots in her throat and she retreats from the room, pulling the door closed behind her and sealing everything away again. She knows she should leave now, that this is enough. She is remembered and still loved. They haven't let go, haven't packed and sealed her away. They've kept her with them and still wait for her to come back. She has, but they can never know. They can't. For them and for her. She needs to go and yet her feet are carrying her in the opposite direction. Away from the stairs and escape and instead to the end of the hall and her parents bedroom.

_Dad_ is strongest here. Its not just scent, but feeling, though the grief permeates everything. And the denial is there in her throat, screaming to be let out, but her eyes zero in to the dresser and her mom's jewelry box and the gold band placed atop it. The sob that never quite escaped turns into a howl screaming within her soul she cant let loose. If she does, she wont _(couldn't)_ stop. So instead she stumbles forward because backwards wasn't an option since she set foot within. Makes for the proof she doesn't want to find.

Underneath the wedding band is a thick piece of paper simply saying "_In Loving Memory"._ Her mom smiles up from underneath the devastating words, like a denial of the horror they are. Shaking wet fingers reach out to trace the black and white photo, like she could still feel the texture of her skin within the gloss of the paper. She can't and she cries harder, shakes until her legs can't support and she crumbles to the floor. The sobs are racking as the one hope she's carried all this time crumbles and fades to ashes. The dream that the rest of her family had been whole and safe without her, that they'd had each other when she'd had no one. It had given her comfort to know that they were not alone like her. But it was all a lie. Dad and Genim had been left to themselves, mom taken and gone. For years. For years she'd been dead and she never knew. Never knew.

The tears didn't stop, just eased. The sobs turning from shudders to quakes. The grief pulling back enough for her to realize she'd stayed to long. That she needed to move, to leave so that no one else would be taken away. So that dad and Genim would have each other at least. Its what she needs to do, what she intends to do until she hears the front door open and the footfalls coming up the stairs. There's no time to run, no time to hide. She scooted backwards, away from the line of sight from the door and back against the wall between the nightstand and the bed. Its backing herself into a corner and its stupid, stupid, stupid. She's so stupid. She should never have come here, never stepped foot inside. She should have known it would lead to this. Anyone could see that. She couldn't be seen, couldn't _see_ herself or she'd never leave. She wouldn't be able to see her dad face to face and walk away. She knew she wouldn't. She couldn't be seen, couldn't see herself. Couldn't, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't. Oh god.

When the footfalls step within the bedroom she feels like she should have known that this was her fate. That of course this is what would happen. That there wasn't a chance in hell he'd walk by and go to the bathroom first. That no, of course he'd have to make for the dresser and there she was, plain as day. If he didn't turn on the light there's a chance he wouldn't see.

She saw his boots coming closer and she ducked her head down against her knees, clamping a hand over her mouth to hold in the whimpers. Her dad was so close and his scent was wafting over her, promising comfort until he found out what she was. Then there would be nothing but hate and disgust, just like Andrew had always said. What else could a human feel for a werewolf? She whimpered again even though she bit down on her hand. The footsteps stopped and a muttered "what the hell?" preceded the light flooding the room.

She bit down harder on her hand, keeping her face tucked against her knees and told herself if she couldn't see him then he couldn't see her. Its denied by his sharp intake of breath and the spike of fear in his scent. She cringes away from it, whimpering again, because dad isn't supposed to be scared, especially of her. But he is and she's a monster.

She hears him shuffle a step towards her, cautious, wary. His presence envelopes her, coating her in familiar warmth like a blanket being dropped across her shoulders. All she wants to do is look up, see his smile, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Curl against his chest and listen to him say its okay. Everything is okay. But nothing is. She's been gone for eigteen years and she's a werewolf and her mom is dead. Nothing is ever going to be okay.

"Who are you?" His tone is reserved, but kind, only a few feet away. She wonders if he has his gun out and quakes harder, pressing closer into the wall at her back. There's no place to run, no way to hide and she doesn't know what to do. She can't let him see her face. Can't, can't, can't. Can't see him or its all over.

"If you're looking for money, I haven't got much." Again, kind. Understanding. Its daddy to the core. "But if you're hungry, my son made this fantastic lasagna and I've got plenty to share."

The offer kicks a plaintive whine into her throat that she can't quite silence. Only her dad would offer food to some one that broke into his house instead of breaking out the cuffs. Its so familiar that it makes her ache and press away so she doesn't move forward.

"You look like you could use something to eat, a warm place to sleep. Can't say I can offer that last one, but I know a nice shelter."

He thought she was homeless. Didn't recognize her and the rational part of her brain knew that all he could see was a huddled ball in ragged clothes. Dirty and she probably smelled. But he always did have a soft spot for lost and broken things and she snuffles as she realizes she is just that.

"Sounds pretty good, huh? Good food, a bed. If you like it around here maybe we could even find you a job. Like the sound of that?"

She nodded against her knees. To appease him, maybe even ease that fear that still pulsed out of him in slow bursts. Knew it worked when she felt a small gust of air against her hair as he crouched down, pushing calm outwards. You soothed scared people like you did animals and she was both. She was both. She whined again with the need to uncurl and press towards him, take what he was offering. It had been years, she'd been a child. He wouldn't recognize her and she could take what he was offering without him ever knowing. She could. It wouldn't hurt, it would get her out. Just this once she could take something for herself, right? Just this once.

"Why do you have that?" The sudden shift in his tone, sharp and a little angry, startles her, pulls her back. Her hands curl tighter and she feels the thick paper clutched in her fingers and realizes what he's talking about. Her mom's memorial picture. Her heart hitches, fear pumping through her veins. He knows something is off now. She left the ring, solid gold, and took the picture. Was crying over it. Oh god, oh god, oh god.

"Honey, you need to tell me why you have that." The calm is gone and a note of hysteria is there in his voice. A riot of emotions are pumping out of him and she can't even begin to sort them out. It feeds her own, makes her panic, lose focus on everything around her. The only thing she can think of is to get away. She lifts her head enough to glance at the door and then suddenly everything is ripped away. Hands catch her face and turn it and her eyes are filled with her dad's stunned expression. It looks like he's been punched in the gut, breath leaving him in an explosive rush, ridden hard by tears appearing in his eyes.

"Cadie?" His voice is anguished, ripped up and torn apart, but there's fierce desperate hope pulsating out of him like a nova.

She shakes her head, sobbing. "No, no, no. I'm not her. I'm not." She's not, she's not, she's not. She's not the little girl he remembers. She's a monster in that girl's skin. A demon possessing the body. Anything but what he thinks she is.

"The hell you're not." She hears the tears clogging and breaking his voice more than she sees them, blinded by her own.

She shakes her head again, a mute denial. If she speaks again...

"You have your mother's face." The statement is heartbroken for a hundred different reasons. "I'd know it anywhere."

She sobs harder, clenching her eyes closed.

"But know how I know? Know how I know you're my Cadie?"

She shakes her head again. An answer to his question and a denial of his words. It doesn't do any good.

"Because you're my daughter. You're my baby girl. And you still have that scar on your chin from when you fell off the swing at school." Its barely audible, that last statement as he strokes the mark with his thumb. Its mangled by the tears and his broken voice and she can't. She just can't deny it anymore.

She sobs harder and surges forward, burrowing into his chest and breaking apart as his arms come around to catch and hold her. Pulled her in tight, too tight and not enough and pressed his cheek to her dirty hair and rocked. Rocked and cried and whispered her name over and over again. Like a prayer, a praise. She clung and sobbed, letting him hold her, letting the past years fall away. Make them like they never were if only for a moment. She's six years old again and everything was a nightmare. A nightmare.

"Daddy," she whimpered.

The steady staccato of "its okay" and "you're home, baby girl" hitches to a stop. His calming voice catches and she can feel the sob tearing at his chest. It feels like muscle ripping, skin taring, organs bursting. Its ugly and painful and she's the cause of it. She did that. She's the one that hurt him, not Andrew. Not Andrew. She can't. Can't hurt him, can't be the cause. Can't, can't, can't. Have to keep him safe. Keep Genim safe. Have to, have to, have to. She promised. She promised.

She closes down thought, lets the wolf take over. She needs its strength, its drive to protect to rip away from her dad, ignore his hoarse yell. She's sobbing as she bursts from the bedroom, half wolfed and all pain. Flies down the stairs and towards the front door. Before she can get there though, it opens. The sight of the startled teenager (no, _Genim_) halts her steps.

He stood with the door open, wide and careless, so unaware of what was out there, backpack halfway to being slung onto the floor. He looks and smells scared and she figures it won't be hard at all to dart past him and escape. Run from this place, from dad, from everything she can't have because she'll rip it all apart if she stays. But then dad is stumbling down the stairs after her and everything changes. The boy's stance, his scent, everything morph from scared to pissed and protective. She's a threat until she's proven not and he's slipping something out of his pocket. It only takes her a moment to recognize the taser for what it is.

"Stiles, no."

It takes her a moment too long to connect her dad's command, to realize he's talking to Genim. She has a wild, terrified thought that this isn't the baby brother she remembers. That he's gone like mom and this is a different one. One she never got to meet, to even know existed. But there's no time, nothing left. She has to get away no matter what. Her wolf receded with the shock of her brother's arrival and she reaches for it again, but her dad's voice breaks through.

"Stop, please."

His plaintive tone stilled her, made a low whine build within her chest. She looked over her shoulder at him, realized how she was boxed between him and the boy. And she's torn. Torn between the urge to flee and the one to launch herself at her father and curl against him again. She can't do either, can't make a choice. She's stuck, stuck, stuck, stuck. Oh god, she can't take it. She needs to move, to do something, anything. Anything at all.

"Dad, what's going on?" The boy (Genim, is it Genim?) is calmer than any seventeen year old should be in this type of situation. The taser is still out, but its not quite raised, not quite sure if she's a threat. She is, she is. She'll be the death of them all.

"Its..." Her dad's voice broke around the word he wanted to say and he took a faltering step forward.

She whined aloud, in warning or need she didn't know. Didn't know which way she'd be pulled. Towards what she wanted or what she was supposed to do. She was a mess, a monster.

"Its her, isn't it?" There's wonder in the boy's voice, cautious hope, calm surety even though he asked a question. "Its Cadie."

Her name hitches a sob in her chest, an answering call in her dad. "Please," she whispered. "Please, let me go." Its ridiculous that she's begging to be freed. She's stronger and faster than both of them, could probably get past that taser without issue. But she's trapped by their startled, broken open selves. Their longing hoping gazes and bleeding hurt. They want her to stay, but they have no idea what she is, what will happen if she does.

The boy (is it Genim, is it?) lowers the taser, tears shining in his eyes. "Sorry, sis. Can't do that."

She sobbed again. At the refusal or the casual endearment, she doesn't know. "Genim, please."

He sucked in a breath, sharp and filled with grief. "Still a no."

The tears broke free and where she found more she didn't know. She thought she was done with them, done with falling apart for at least a moment. Long enough to get away at least.

"Cadie, please. Just... just calm down and talk to us, baby." Her dad, soothing and pushing out calm, but it was ridden hard by... everything.

He took a cautious step forward and she inched away, shaking her head and he stilled again. Hands out placatingly and she hated it. Hated that he thought she'd strike out. She was an animal, she knew it, but she'd never hurt him. Never, never, never. Couldn't. He was dad and that was Genim and they were all she had left in the world. All her family. All her pack.

There's a howl building in her throat that's begging to be released, is halfway there when the scent hits her nose and sickening panic settles in her gut. Its familiar and its not and its all the warning she gets before the werewolf is barreling through the half open door. Terror that its Andrew or another of the pack floods her and there's no thought in letting the wolf out. Of leaping forward and shoving Genim (its him, its really him) out of the way and running headlong into the newest arrival. She heard her dad shouting, Genim yelling and flailing as he fell into some sort of furniture and then she's enveloped in her attacker. He snarls as her claws sink into his chest, but barely stumbles as the full of her weight hits him. He's heavy, solid like a stonewall. She screamed as he grabbed her wrists and yanked her away, tossing her like a ragdoll.

The landing took her breath away, but she wasted no time in getting up. She was used to the paralyzing breathlessness, the terrifying helplessness. None of it mattered compared to the two humans safety.

All she caught was black leather and dark hair before she was being tackled to the floor again. She growled as she bucked and twisted, hating the feeling of him across her back, her belly pressed to the floor. Plenty of practice had her worming out of his hold and spinning away to crouch between him and her family. Only waited a breath before launching herself forwards again. If she could keep him distracted long enough they could get away. If she fought hard enough maybe it would hurt him enough that it would slow him down. It was the least she could do for bringing this here. Sacrifice to save them. It would make everything worthwhile then.

The other werewolf caught her midstrike. Grappling at her wrists and taking the kick she threw at his stomach. She snarled and wrenched. When that didn't work she prepared to lunge forward, but the deafening roar thwarted her. The power of an Alpha washed over her, full and angry, cowering her wolf into submission. Terror streaked through her as she realized the only thing worse than Andrew finding her was wandering into the territory of another pack. But this werewolf was in her family's house and she had to protect them, had to keep them safe, Alpha or no.

She bucked and twisted until she was free, reaching for the wolf within, but it was beyond her grasp. She panted, rolling into a crouch, staring up at the werewolf before her. He was still in the partial transformation, the Beta stage. Distorted features and red eyes, extended claws. Tall and dark and strong and she was small, helpless, human. But she had to. Had to stand and fight, protect. She growled a challenge at him, wishing for teeth. He snarled an answer and began to advance.

"Derek, stop!"

Her world suddenly tilted, became muddled, confused. It only intensified as the Alpha relaxed, letting the wolf slide from his features, the red turn to hazel. Claws still extended, stance at the ready. Blood darkened the gray shirt he wore under the black leather. Brows drawn he glanced from her to the boy that stood somewhere behind her.

"Why?" Voice low, still shifted. Warning, threatening.

"Because she's my sister. My sister who is apparently a werewolf."

Logically she knew she couldn't faint, not without serious injury, but her world blackened out. She lost sense of everything long enough to have her dad move across the room and crouch before her and Genim, no _Stiles,_ hovering uncertainly. She looked wildly around her, found the Alpha looming behind her brother and scrambled backwards, away from all three of them, whimpering.

"Shh, Cadie, its alright. Its daddy. Nothings going to hurt you."

The tears across her body belied that claim. She whined, low and hurt and made to scramble away when her dad reached for her. But she was caught up in his arms, pulled in tight to his broad chest and tucked in. Still she struggled, sobbing.

"Daddy, please. Please let me go."

He pressed his cheek to her hair, stroking down the ratty tangles. "Not a chance in hell, baby girl. Not ever again."

She sobbed harder at his warm soothing tone. "You have to. You have to. Please. I'm a monster. I'm a monster, daddy. You don't want me. You don't."

Its vindication that burns like acid when he pulls away and she's waiting for the barrage of disgust and fear, but instead she gets his hands cupping her face. Its what he always did when he wanted her undivided attention to impart some wisdom on her. "No you're not, Cadie."

She shook her head at his calm words, his warm honest eyes. "Yes I am. I am. You saw. Daddy, you _saw._"

He smiled. It was a bruised and crooked thing, but there all the same. "I did, baby. I saw my little girl be the same reckless heathen ball of fury she's been since she could crawl. There's more teeth and nails for sure, but you're still Cadie. You're still my baby girl and nothing is going to change that."

Her whole body stilled at his words, at the sound of his heart beating fast but steady. No ticks or hitches until she let out a strangled sob and surged forward. He caught her, he always had and she cried harder. "Daddy. Dad. Dad."

"Sh, baby girl, shh." All else was lost under that steady reassurance as she cried again, eighteen years worth falling away. Eighteen years of fear and surety that she'd never be accepted. That her family would deny her if she ever went back to them. But there she was, sitting on the living room floor with her dad telling her it was alright. Alright that she was a werewolf. And Genim (no, _Stiles_) knew. Knew what she was and... and... and oh god, there was still an Alpha.

She tore away from her dad and scrambled back again. He looked confused and hurt and she couldn't. Just couldn't.

"What's going on? Why isn't he killing you?" The thought makes her want to surge forward again, put herself between the Alpha and her family, but he's not doing anything, just watching the drama unfold. And he'd listened to her brother.

Stiles looked between her and the Alpha. "Derek? Why would he?"

The question caught her off guard, wiped any possible rational explanation. It was simply obvious to her anyway. "Because you're human."

"Right. Awesome explanation that's not terrifying me at all. Derek, mind giving us some space here?"

The older man glanced between them, frowning. "I can't."

"Uh, yes you can." The bizarreness of her dad speaking to a werewolf, to an Alpha, so casually made her want to faint again. This... this was not what she'd been expecting at all.

"The pack knows there's another werewolf. If they find her while I'm not here..."

"Instinct to protect their territory is gonna take over and that... that wouldn't be good." Stiles looked suitably alarmed as he finished.

Her dad sighed roughly, face haggard and exposed. "Then give us some space. My daughter has been missing for eighteen years-" his voice cracked "-and right now, we need a moment, alright? Just a moment to figure this all out. To..."

"Seriously cry some more?" Stiles offered up, own voice going a little ragged.

Dad laughed, all choked and messed up and pulled his son into a one armed grateful hug. Derek nodded and retreated to another room and Cadie felt a desperate whine build up. It crept from within her heart and up her throat and settled in her mouth, thick and suffocating. Building as she watched the last of her family leaning on each other to survive the wreck she'd just made of their lives. And she should leave. Go before she made it worse.

"Cadie, if you try to run again instead of coming over here, I'm sicking Derek on you to bring you back."

There's an hysterical urge to laugh, but it gets tangled up with the urge to scream and what comes out is some twisted version of both, freezing her where she is. It turns into a keen, long and loud until suddenly dad is there. Lifting her up and holding her tight and all she can do is cling, hard and tight. They settle on the couch and then Stiles is there too and he's hugging dad with her in the middle. And really, its the best place to cry, to really let it all go because its okay, because they're crying to.

When it stops, when it eases from full body shudders to random aftershocks, she's drained and soaked. There's the scent of grief, strong and cloying, but there's also a strange joy threaded through, warm and bright. She's pressed tight to her dad and her brother is plastered along her back, cheek tucked in against her nape. It hitches fear under her heart because she's so exposed, at their mercy. Its been such a long time that she's been shown any. But all she wants to do is nestle down farther, curl tighter. And dad seems to have the same feeling. He's just stroking her hair quietly, as cried out as her, holding tight in that comforting way he always had. That is home to her, a piece of a whole that's broken but still standing.

"Where have you been?" Its Stiles that asks the question, murmurs it into her shoulder.

It made her tense, pull in and away from them. Gather herself together and wonder how easily she fell apart.

"Cadie?" Its dad this time, low and concerned.

She pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, still bracketed by the two people who meant the most to her in this world. Funny that it should be so when she didn't know them anymore. Didn't know if she could trust, who they were. But the wolf inside, the duality of her nature was calm on all fronts and she had never felt that. Instinct had saved her more than once, guided her actions more than reason and she steadfastly put her faith in it. "How much do you know?" She whispered into her knees, the jeans torn and smelling. There was blood there, from the wounds not quite knitting closed yet.

It was dad that answered, slow and cautious, voice still ten shades of wrecked. "Almost nothing. The police found the car and... and what was left of dad."

Her heart lurched, the brief bloody memories surging forward and licking at her mind.

"They said a bear, but... It never sat right with me. We did a search for you, for days. Weeks. Months. Hoped that you'd run away and had gotten lost, but we... We never found a trace of you." The tears were back in his voice. "We had to give up eventually. The local police wouldn't, couldn't look anymore and the feds backed out once it was ruled an animal attack. But we never gave up. We never did." Again the even gait of his heart, the simply sweet scent of honesty and she nodded wordlessly against her knees, waiting for him to go on. "But we never heard anything. Not once. And now... Now you show up, whole and beautiful."

Tears pricked anew and she shook her head. "No. I'm a monster."

"Only in the old horror movie technicality."

Something foreign bubbled in her as she stared at her brother's apologetic face, so expressively so and she took the moments she hadn't yet to really see him. He had mom's nose and eyes and that brought a hitch of grief, but the rest was so uniquely him. Like her he had the slenderer stature than dad. All slim bone and ridiculous metabolism. Energy bumped under his skin, made his body twitch with it reminding her of the pups in her pack. Her old pack. They weren't hers anymore.

"How do you know about me, us? Werewolves?" Its quiet and worried and reminds her there's still an Alpha nearby acting, well, not like any Alpha she knew. Her experience was limited to one it was true, but she'd been sure that was enough for a lifetime.

"I blame that lurking wall of leather clad muscle over there."

She followed the line of Stiles' thumb to the Alpha and tried not to shudder at his intense gaze. Quietly intimidating, packed tight with wariness and an edge of curiosity. She couldn't hold his eyes, the wolf within rolling onto its proverbial back to bare its belly in submission. "Why?"

"Why do we know about werewolves?" Dad tripped over that last word, still caught in its ridiculous improbability.

She nodded.

"Because his uncle, a real favorite of man. Werewolf of the year type, really." The Alpha, Derek rumbled a low warning growl that had her hackles rising with the threat. But Stiles talked on, oblivious. "Yeah, I know, don't talk ill of the twice dead, but come on, the guy was a couple cans short of a sixpack." Dead silence. "Okay, moving on. Crazy psychotic uncle bit my best friend a couple years ago while on a revenge kick. Yeah, he was the old Alpha. Liked to murder and munch on humans. A real sweet caring individual."

"Stiles." Dad sounded tired in his warning.

"Okay, okay." Hands raised to emphasize. "Long, really long horrifying story short, Derek's uncle turned my best friend, Derek tried to intermittently help or kill us, we did the same, yadda yadda. Trust issues galore, we helped him take down the Alpha and he became the Man. Turned a bunch of my friends into violent delinquents, his uncle came back from the dead and got toasted again by an Alpha pack and voila! You have the Hale Pack, a creepy brooding dude in his twenties leading a bunch of teenagers. And me, who is thankfully still somehow human."

She blinked at him, nonplussed. "Are you...?"

"Always like this? Yep."

Her lips quirked in an unfamiliar gesture at the weary answer. "Okay."

Dad laughed and Stiles let out a breath. "Seriously? No 'oh my, god' or the classic 'shut up, Stiles'?"

She tipped sideways into him, realizing that she was smaller than him now. Let her head tuck under his chin for a breath and felt more than heard his shaky exhale.

"Oh wow. Dad always said you'd be an awesome sister."

She wanted to laugh, but tears threatened and she couldn't, just couldn't do that again. Not right now, not until she had some more answers, so she pulled away and refocused on Derek.

"So you... you don't hurt humans? Or is it... is it just because he helped you?" Everything, _everything_ depended on his answer.

"No and no." Quietly sincere even though he was tense all over.

"So you... you don't hunt... them?"

Surprise flitted across his face, brief and expressive in his drawn brows. "No."

"Wow, a little more shock at that question would have been appreciated. What the hell, Derek? What does she mean by 'hunting humans'?" There's a tinge of hysteria there in her brother's voice.

Derek frowns at him, but Cadie and her dad are staring at him too, waiting for his answer. "There's a reason there's hunters."

She suppressed a shudder but can't quite ignore the flash of strung up bodies, pups and adults alike.

"I thought that was because new wolves lost their... humanity sometimes in the shift." It freaked her out to hear her dad talk so calmly about this stuff. Like some axis in the universe had tilted.

"They take care of those too."

"Care to elaborate?"

Derek shifted, arms crossing over his chest. "My pack, my family, was harmless. We were... modernized. We held to a new belief of integration, cohabitation. Live amongst people, be them. Control the wolf to survive. But some packs hold to the old ways, like Cadie's."

"You know of them?" There's a question being asked, under the obvious and everyone can hear it.

"No. But I know their type."

"What exactly are 'the old ways'?"

"Hunting humans as prey."

Either side of her, Stiles and dad looked gobsmacked. "Seriously, what the hell?"

"Its a tradition. Kill them before they kill you. Kill a human to join the pack. Hunt them together once you're in."

Dad and Stiles looked at her for confirmation and she nodded wordlessly.

"Did you...? Did you have to...?" Her dad's voice hitched and hesitant, not wanting to hear the answer but having to ask anyway.

Her eyes widened at the question and she shook her head violently. "No. Never. You taught me... You and mom said it was bad to hurt people."

He exhaled on a shaky laugh and kissed the side of her head. "That didn't stop you from scrapping in the schoolyard."

She pressed her face into his shoulder. "I'd forgotten about that."

"I haven't." Derek's voice shocked them all.

"What?!" Stiles voice was high pitched. "You knew Cadie?"

A dark eyebrow quirked. "We went to school together." Something was left unsaid, broken off the quiet statement

Dad laughed, sudden and joyous. "I remember. She had you pinned and was pummeling you for the life of her within the first thirty seconds of her first day. Took me and your dad to pull you two apart."

"Seriously? My sister kicked your ass in kindergarten? Dude, wait. Werewolves _went_ to kindergarten?"

Cadie cocked her head at Derek, studying his tense features. Would have missed the slight brief quirk of his mouth if she hadn't been looking so closely. For some reason it brought the memory back. "You said my name was funny."

He shrugged in answer.

"How do you remember that?" It had been a faint thing in the back of her mind that would have stayed there forever if some one else hadn't brought it up.

He shrugged again. "Mom said you would have made a good wolf afterward." Everything he meant by that was expressed in those few simple words.

Tears rushed back to her and she fought them down. "She was kinda wrong."

He studied her. "Maybe, but I don't think so."

She huffed in an attempt at a sarcastic laugh to cover up the tears. "You don't know me very well then. There's a reason I'm an Omega."

Silence greeted her. Derek's and Stiles considering and her dad confused.

"What does that mean?" He asked.

Everyone hesitated. Stiles was the one left filling the silence.

"It means she was the punching bag of the pack, essentially."

Her dad's sudden protective rage was overwhelming, engulfing her in red fire. "What the hell did they do to you?"

She curled tighter against herself. "Dad, no. Just no."

He cupped her face, drawing her to look at him. "You tell me what those bastards did and where to find them. Then I'm going to hunt them down and... and..."

"Pump them full of wolfsbane and silver?" Stiles supplied.

"Exactly."

She pulled away roughly. From him, from them, from the couch, to stand in the middle of the room with her arms around herself. "No. No, I can't."

"What do you mean, 'you can't'? They hurt you." Dad was furious, but not at her. At them, at the world, for her being taken away.

"It wasn't 'them' that hurt me. It was just him. And you can't... You can't."

"Why?" Stiles curious, probing yet kind.

"Because he's an Alpha." It feels like a betrayal to say the words. She might have been the lowest member of the pack and never listened to them, the way they decided to live their lives, but the strings tying her to them were still there. They'd raised her, tried to make her one of them. Even if it didn't work those years were still there.

They were silent, her dad seething, trying to quell the anger that just kept festering. Growing as he let himself feel the lost years and what might have happened in them.

"Why'd you leave?" Derek, calm and calculating.

She averted her eyes. "His... his mate was killed. By... by him. He led her into a trap made by hunters. She was the only... She was the only thing that kept him sane. Kept me safe." Again the bitter tang of betrayal, but they needed to know. Needed to be aware of the danger. If an Alpha could lead his mate to be murdered then there was no telling what else he would do.

"Will he look for you?" Derek had put the pieces together. Couldn't know the details of exactly _why_ this made her flee, only that it had.

She shuddered. "Yes. Its why... why I tried to run away from dad." A shaky breath. "If he finds me... If he finds out who they are to me..." She couldn't say the words past the images in her mind. She might not have participated in the hunts, but she'd seen what happened. Saw the bloody mangled bodies every time.

"He won't come here." Derek's voice low and true. "This territory belongs to me as does everyone within it."

She laughed sardonically. "It won't matter. He's psychotic and ruthless and the pack isn't much better. The only way to keep everyone safe is to leave."

"No." Its said by both humans in the room, no longer able to remain silent.

Tears prickled in her eyes and she cast them at the men on the couch. "Its the only way. They killed grandpa because of me. I can't... I can't let them hurt you too."

Dad's grief was sudden and strong. A short burst that was quickly gathered and tucked away. "We'll talk about that later. But for right now, you're not going anywhere. Not again. We just got you back."

"Daddy..."

"Derek can place you under his protection," Stiles interrupted. A raised eyebrow met that declaration. "Hey, buddy, you owe me. Big time."

"No." It was her that spoke, small and frightened.

"Why not?" Stiles again.

"Because I won't be the cause of anyone getting hurt. Not because of me and I wont... I won't be an..." For some reason she couldn't say the words. _Won't be an Omega again. Not within a pack. I'll be one, on my own. Forever if I have to._

"It won't be the same." By the way Derek said the words it was like he knew. Knew the torment she'd been subjected to and she wondered if he'd suffered a similar fate. "We have an Omega."

"But he's not a punching bag. Well, sometimes the butt of some harsh jokes, but they're all true." Stiles is earnest, whole body getting into the act of talking. It made her smile, small and tentative.

"It doesn't matter," she told them quietly. "What I am, where I am. He'll come. I won't have anyone hurt." She wouldn't be talked out of it. She'd stayed too long already.

Derek suddenly loomed before her, big and hostile, Alpha power radiating out and calling to her for obedience. And for the first time ever, all of her wanted to listen, not just the wolf. "Your family is pack, human or not. That makes you pack."

She stared up at him, small and fragile. "Why do you want me to stay?" A whisper in the storm of him.

Something softened in him. Shoulders lowering, brow easing. Darkness entering those changeable eyes. "Because, we're stronger with family."

Something caught within her at his solemn words. Made her wonder what happened to the kind-faced woman and laughing dark haired man that had brought him to that first fateful meeting. The older sister she remembers seeing. Wonders why when Stiles had talked of this pack it was only teenagers that were mentioned and never the rest of "That Hale Family" she remembers the moms of the neighborhood gossiping about. "But it breaks you when you lose them," she whispered back and sees the flare of understanding in his eyes.

"Then don't lose them."

Tears rose unbidden and she twisted her head away. "I can't. I won't."

He knows what she's saying even when she doesn't. "You can't protect them if you're gone."

She closed her eyes against the truth. "But I can lead him away so I don't have to."

He's quiet as he considers her and she's wondering why her family hasn't interrupted. "You think its not to late for that?" Its not sarcastic or biting. He's asking, as unsure of the answer as she is.

Her breath shuddered in and caught in her throat. "I have to try."

"No. You're too scared to stay." He said it like some one who has gone through the same thing already.

Defiance flared in her, had her meeting his eyes. "What would you know?" Its a refusal of the compassion she felt before. Strike out before they strike you and rip you to shreds.

He revealed nothing. "I know."

There's nothing to argue against, not with the low assurance. "If they're hurt by him..."

"At least you would have done your best to protect them."

"And what if its not? What if leaving was the right way?"

His expression was haunted, a glimmer of his soul in his eyes. "Running is never the answer."

And fuck her if he wasn't right. She could have left the pack years ago, but she'd been too scared. To scared to face her family and what she thought they'd think of her. Run from the fear of what they'd do and stayed with monsters. And then she'd run, when it was to late, when her mom was dead and nothing held Andrew back. Run home with her tail between her legs and when the going started getting rough, when it all became to much, when their love was drowning her in guilt and helplessness, all she could think of was taking off again. She snuffled at the tears, wiping her nose. "Yeah."

Again his body eased, but still watchful. "So you'll stay?"

There was no thought in her nod. She'd finally come home and she wasn't going anywhere, ever again. "Yeah. I'll stay. And join the pack, if you still want me." She'd need them to keep Dad and Stiles safe. And she'd do whatever they wanted her to in return. A small enough price to pay in theory. She just hoped... she just hoped they didn't ask the same things. That they were as decent as Derek appeared to be.

He nodded. "Tomorrow."

She nodded in return, unable to form words, unable to process how her life just suddenly shifted.

She only flinched a little when he stepped closer, body crowding close to hers, looming. Obediently tilted her face up, nose brushing under his chin, scenting him. It washed over her, warm and wild. Forest and fire and ash and desperation and fierce protectiveness. Nothing like the sickly scent of death and the acidic burn of madness she was familiar with. She snuffled at the newness, pressing closer to chase the scent, have it stronger, imbed it in her sense-memory labeled under _Pack_ and _Alpha._ Under _Home._ Ignored the way he pressed his cheek to her hair, the way his whole body touched her, his hand cupping her neck, thumb rubbing his scent into her skin. She was his now, marked by him to every other wolf. She bore the Alpha's approval, his acceptance. It felt like a piece of her clicking into place. A piece that had never fit right before.

Then suddenly he was gone and the room felt cold. She let out a breath, inhaling him when she breathed in again.

"What the hell was that?" Her dad sounded strangled.

She let out another shaky breath, not meeting his eyes. "We were sharing our scents."

"What?"

"Its kinda like the 'Welcome to the club' pin." It was Stiles that explained, hands shoved in his pockets, standing somewhere in between the other two. "She smells like Derek now and the others will recognize that. Know he's found her first, acknowledged and accepted her. So they'll be less likely to chew her head off, or other parts of her body."

Dad stared at him a moment. "So essentially he just peed on her leg, didn't he?"

Its so unexpected that it tears a snort of laughter from her. "Dad! Seriously?"

He looks affronted at her indignant protest. "Well its true, isn't it?"

"That's beside the point!"

"Hey, I get to be a little ticked that within the first hour of getting my daughter back, guys are already sniffing around. Literally. Which is always going to be a little... weird."

She met his eyes for the first time since talking with Derek, hesitant and hopeful. "An okay kinda weird or...?"

"If it means you staying, then a definitely okay weird."

She smiled tentatively. "Yeah. If you're still okay with the whole..." She waved at herself, dirty and tattered, all five foot two of her.

He crossed the room and hugged her tightly. "Honey, I'm never going to not be okay with you. All of you, just the way you are."

At some point she'd stop crying, she knew. At some point the tears would dry and everything would stop being so open and raw. But tonight was not the night so she snuggled deeper and hoped that when tomorrow dawned, this wouldn't just be another dream. "You give the best hugs," she whispered into his shoulder.

His laugh was watery and he clung tighter.

"That he does," Stiles answered. "And I'm kinda feeling left out over here."

They both laughed at him and made an opening and it felt like heaven as they both enveloped her. Felt like _Home._

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry if the characters got a little OOC. I don't have much access to reruns of Teen Wolf right now to tune me in. Hope its okay.

Peace


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